Rude awakening

by Double-U

Have you ever just woken up in someone else’s bed, with 200 pounds of more muscle, because you got a ‘new advisor’ from some weird company you never heard of? Yeah, didn’t think so. Here’s my crazy story. If you can believe it.

Added: Feb 2021 3,638 words 3,363 views 5.0 stars (1 vote)

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Hey—it’s Johnny Cooper. Wanna hear something crazy? Well, it all started on a quiet Friday night—a chilly start to the first weekend of the winter semester. It was me and my roommate chillin’ on the couch, us both scrolling through our phones. I forget exactly how this convo went, but we eventually started talking about Logan Stevens—the 30-something, up and coming fighter and boxer, who had some serious gains. Since neither of us were that bulky, we were both impressed with his brawn. And then I said it. The thing that would put things in motion that would affect everything I knew about what was and wasn’t possible.

I said, “Wouldn’t it be sweet to just live in his shoes for a day?”

Fast forward to the next morning. I remember the room being strangely sunny for a dreary January day in the northeast. I turned over in my sleep, refusing to open my eyes. It was Saturday, after all. But something was not quite right. The bed sheets just felt… silkier? The mattress felt… I don’t know… but it definitely was different. Then an alarm went off, taking me out of my blissful drowsy state.

It was coming from my phone, which was laying right next to me on the bed. But, it wasn’t my phone. Totally different brand, different color, different shape… But stopping the loud, annoying buzzing was my first priority. I made a quick mental note to check my alarm settings, because I never remembered setting my alarm this early—7am on a Saturday—that was just unacceptable. After I hit the ‘dismiss’ button on the lock screen, I couldn’t help but notice I was in a different bed room.

Sun bled through the closed blinds, bathing the room in brown. It was a very nicely furnished room (I’d say it was modern—a lot of squared edges, wood furniture, and metal accents). As I slowly sat up in bed, I couldn’t help but say, “Hello?” Who wouldn’t? I thought I was abducted or something. The second the sound left my throat, I reached my hand to my Adams Apple. That voice was not my own. It was deeper than before.

I followed my hand to the arm that was connected to it—and the massive bicep. I jumped out of the bed and looked down at my new frame. I was packing some serious muscle—It was like a dream come true.

I ran my hands down my chest, over my two pecs, which formed a little valley between the two of them. They were like two balloons—I was not used to the feeling of having my chest extend out so far. I flexed my two biceps—the fabric of my tee was straining to contain them. I couldn’t help feeling my body up, and wrapping my huge, muscular arms around my chest, feeling my muscles in my back—especially my lats. And how they helped form that classic V shape to my torso.

“What the actual fuck is happening?” I said, in my new rugged voice, popping my pecs back and forth.

After another quick glance around the room, I noticed there was also a silver reflection that caught my eye on the bedside table. It was a letter printed on metallic paper, or maybe it was more like tinfoil. I gave it a read.

Dear Mr. John Cooper,

My name is Aeon Epoch, your new advisor at GuLock Industries in Universe 423b. I am excited to inform you that your request to live as Mr. Logan Stevens for a day has been accepted.

Please be aware that your session with this body will be timed out at midnight tonight, and your soul will return to your former body back in Rhode Island. Also, do not fret about your original body—it is safe and accounted for in cryo-sleep.

If you have any issues or wish to speak, give me a call at my personal line at:

(767)231-060-0780-9899-2938.

Kind Regards,

Aeon

After I read the letter for the fifth time, I looked up, catching my new gorgeous face in a mirror hanging on the wall. I ran over to the connected bathroom—I had to see myself in the mirror. And what I saw did not disappoint. Today was going to be a great day.

I was Logan Stevens—the boxer—in the flesh. My heart was beating so fast. I leaned in closer to get a better look at my new face. Dirty blond hair, bright blue eyes, 5 o’clock shadow, square jaw—I was the exact duplicate of Logan.

I threw off the tee I was wearing, unearthing the ultimate power of my bod. Logan was in the bulking phase for sure, but I was not complaining. My cock in my pants also wanted out, pushing up against my shorts. But after a few poses in front of the mirror, I forced myself to calm down.

I walked back over to the bed, locating the phone that I pushed away. I walked over to it, and almost fell over, because I just realized my new 6-foot-5 height. If I even thought about my new size too much, I would probably fall over. I woke the phone up, hoping to get some info, but it asked me for a password that I didn’t know. “I guess no phone for me.”

Still shirtless, I left the bed room, and took a peek at the other bed rooms on this floor. They were all completely furnished, with tidy queen-sized beds, with no sign of other habitants. I walked downstairs to the kitchen—granite counter tops, bold, black cabinets, and shiny, practically new stainless-steel appliances. Logan had some serious cash.

I made myself some breakfast, good old eggs and ham. It was difficult to navigate someone else’s kitchen, but I got the job done. But what I wasn’t expecting was to still be hungry after my normal helping of breakfast. So I made some second helpings. And third helpings too.

During breakfast, I kept on repositioning my chest, because honestly, I was just so… not uncomfortable, but I was just not used to the tight skin wrapped around my puffed chest. And don’t get me started about my dick.

So after breakfast, it was time to explore myself. AKA—an extremely long, hot shower.

After spending about an hour in the shower where I pumped my dick a few good 15 times, I stood naked in front of the dresser. I turned on the television, mounted on the wall above the fireplace. After a quick look at the news, it appeared that I was in L.A., California—and it was going to be a toasty 80 degrees today. Which was a drastic change from the ice cold Rhode Island temperatures this time of year.

I decided on an extra-large tank, some boxer-briefs, and a pair of brown shorts for today’s attire. At least, for now. I folded the silver letter and slid it into my pocket.

After looking at myself in the mirror for who knows how long, twisting and turning, making more poses, you know, all that… well, anyway, my phone dinged. And it was a text from some guy ‘Joe’. I am embarrassed to even say this, but after several minutes trying to unlock the phone with various 4 number passwords, I realized there was a finger-print scanner on the back.

“Yo—let’s hit the boardwalk today,” he wrote.

After a quick Facebook search (thank god Logan was into social media) I found out that Joe was a close friend. And was also apparently a gym rat. I quickly contemplated if I should join him and pretend to be Logan while not knowing a single thing about the guy. But the allure of walking around an L.A. beach with a fellow stud won me over.

I texted back “yeah—sounds good. Meet at my house”. I was going to explore more of the house, but his Facebook feed caught my attention. Scrolling through his photos and status updates of Logan at the gym or at a fight, I heard a knock at the door, followed by it opening.

“Lo! It’s Joe, you ready to go?” He was big, but not as big as me. His blue eyes were stunning. And his jet black hair was short and looked silky to the touch. His muscle tee highlighted his massive well-defined arms. I guess I looked for too long, because then he had a muscle and said “Nice gains, huh?” And then he gave me this look. I don’t know. It looked like he was waiting for my approval or something. So I gave a head nod and a raised my eye brows. I guess I had to try my best to keep my gay-ness to myself.

“Dude, you are so gonna win next Friday night. You’re against Hollofax,” he said as we got into his Range Rover. I had to tread lightly, because if I ask too many questions about something that I should clearly know about, he’s going to get suspicious. In the end, I just decided to change the subject all together, and ask him about how his workout routine was going.

Well, apparently, that was a gold mine, because he never shut up, all the way to the shore. I mean, it was only a few minutes’ drive, but still.

When we got to the pier, the sight sure was beautiful. Hot too. And so was the weather. It was just us two muscle studs, walking the pier with paper thin muscle tees on. Golden sun illuminated the crowded boardwalk. I could feel the heat on my shoulder blades, cursing myself for my putting on more sun screen.

I had to say that it was a little strange—I felt like I stood out from everyone there—A huge 6-foot-5 professional fighter, just showing off his powerful bod at the pier. I guess that was what I signed up for, but still. I even heard one or two cat calls from a few different groups of girls. And plenty of stares from on-lookers.

As we walked down the busy boardwalk, filled with sounds of buzzers and beeps from the boardwalk games and arcades, and the chatter of the families, we walked down one of the many ramps down to the beach to toss a frisbee. Not to gloat, but I was amazing at frisbee back at Rhode Island, and all the movements came back to me like riding a bike… a new larger bike. My first few tosses weren’t that great, mainly because I was getting used to my strength, but as we got going, my tosses only got better. And then the weirdest, okay, in the grand scheme of what was happening today, it wasn’t that weird, but could you believe that some hot chick came up and gave he her number? That’s was the first for me.

Several hours went by of us chilling on the beach and playing frisbee, when we both decided to return to the boardwalk, and maybe grab some drinks. And we did. We both had some subs from a small mom and pop shop on the boardwalk.

“No way—Stevens?” I heard behind me. I turned around to see who it was, but he didn’t look familiar. He apparently knew me.

He was not wearing a shirt, only a pair of white shorts. Whoever he was, he was seriously packing—with impressive pecs and two round shoulders. But the look on his face told me that this was not just a friendly reunion at the beach.

I held up my hand to the sun to get the sun out of my eyes.

“What do you want, Hollofax?” said Joe, crossing his arms. Wait, Hollofax? I’ve heard that name before…

“Looking forward to our fight on Friday. Too bad it won’t be much of a competition though.” Hollofax said. He was expecting me to say something back, but I was too frozen to retort.

Joe sensed me struggling, and spoke up. “You’ll be in for a rude awakening come Friday.”

Hollofax rolled his eyes, and walked away, bumping my shoulder.

“Still the same piece of shit he was in high school.” Joe watched Hollofax until he vanished among the beach goers. He turned his attention to me. “Hey, you seem off, actually, all day you’ve been strangely quiet. What’s up?”

I really had to watch what I said here. “Ah, I just… you know how you just feel like you woke up in a different bed?” Joe slowly nodded. “I guess I just feel a little off today, that’s all.”

Joe nodded again and there was a few seconds of silence between us. We resumed walking down the boardwalk. “Hey, I have an idea that might get you back in shape. Let’s hit the beach gym. What a great day, perfect breeze, not a cloud in sight.” I practically stopped in my tracks when I saw where we were walking to.

There was a ramp down to a fenced in area of the beach—full of dumbbells and other gym equipment. It also had a good crowd of other body builders there. It was just bad news all around. I had zero form—I have never actually set foot in a gym, but Logan has. If I went in there and worked out with the improper form, not only would that be a total embarrassment, but Joe would suspect something was up. I had to think fast; we were practically there.

“Uh, Joe, why don’t you go on ahead. There’s something I gotta do.” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb.

He nodded. “What? That hottie from the beach?”

“Uh…” I said.

“Say no more, hot shot.” He slapped my shoulder.

“I’ll call ya tomorrow.” I said. We parted ways, and I practically ran into the nearest alley I could find.

That was all too much. I couldn’t believe I made it out. What was I doing here? I was way over my head. And even in this body. This was just all so unreal. I meant, this was literally my dream, but it felt like a nightmare right now.

“Hey, buddy, you alright?” I just then realized I was practically hyper ventilating. I looked up and locked eyes with some attractive looking beau, who was sporting a plain white tee and some jeans. He had a little bit of muscle on him, way more than I ever had. And, also it was kinda weird to see someone wearing jeans on a board walk, but whatever.

I realized how crazy I looked and stood up straight. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” I said, clearing my throat.

He looked at my suspiciously. His posture softened, and he said, “Hey, look, I know when someone is not alright. You are showing all the signs. I’m Ave. What do you say we get out of the sun and talk?” He reached out his hand for a shake.

There was something strange about how this guy was looking at me. It was a weird cross between an old childhood friend, and a good Samaritan who gave you an umbrella in a rainstorm. I shook his hand. What was the worst that could happen?

“Wow, damn. That’s one firm grip. What do you do for a living?” he asked. He more so said it to himself. Anyway, he didn’t wait for an answer. He just held up one of his hands to my tricep and gently brought his fingers down my arm. On his second pass, he brought both hands up to my shoulders, repeating the motions. By that time, I was almost mesmerized by his hands on my body.

He leaned in. And then I kinda leaned in too. Closer. Closer. Then our lips met, all during his hands continued to feel up and down my back. His hands continued to go further down by back. Our lips parted, and we locked eyes.

“What did you say your name was?” Ave said. His hand reached into my pocket, the one with the folded letter. My heart dropped. I mean, it was only a prop, as far as he would know, right?

“Ah ha! Got you red handed,” he said. I took a few steps back, my back hit the alley wall. He opened the letter.

“So, what is your real name?” he asked, as I grabbed the letter from his hands. I was flabbergasted. He did he know? What was happening?

“Did you really think you could get away with it?” he asked, and was dead serious. His voice was flat and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“With what? I just…” I tried to explain, but he cut me off.

“You just, what? Took over the body of another, just because you were, what…” he looked me up and down and continued, “…envious of his physique? Do you realize the ethical moralities of what you have done? Did Logan ask for this to happen?”

“… Hey, listen, I didn’t even ask for this to happen!”

“Save it for the hunter. You’re coming with me.” Ave grabbed me by the wrist. I didn’t know what was happening, but I did know that I did not want to meet the ‘hunter’. Something inside of me took over; and before I knew it, he was out cold, lying on the ground. I guess I clocked him, but I couldn’t be sure.

This was just too much. Luckily I lived only a few blocks from the boardwalk, so I decided to just lock myself in the house for the rest of the day. It was enough crazy for a lifetime.

Who was that guy? Was it wrong to take over somebody’s body? I guess it was, but regardless, I was also a victim here. It’s not like I asked for this. I mean, I had no idea where my own body is. The letter mentions cryo-sleep, but who knows what, or where, that actually means.

When I opened my front door, the burst of cool air from my house was a nice welcome. And just what I needed after a day like today. I looked at the clock—it was 5 in the evening. I breathed a sigh—7 more hours before all this craziness was gone, and I was back in my own bed, in my own body, with my own friends. Who even knew what was happening back in Rhode Island right now.

I found myself standing in front of a full length mirror hanging in the living room. My eyes were telling me I was watching myself, but my brain saying it was someone else. I mean, it was someone else. I was someone else. I was in Logan’s body. I pulled out the silver letter and took a glance at it. My soul was in Logan’s body. What were the ethics of that?

I sat back down on the couch, taking a deep breath. I did not sign up for this. Sure, I said it would be cool to be in his shoes for a day, but people say that all the time. What made this time any different?

What was this GuLock Industries, anyway? I shut my eyes, trying to clear my head for a bit.

I woke up hours later—the sun was already below the horizon. My stomach was screaming for some food. Luckily, Logan had some meals in the fridge that were already prepped, so I grabbed what looked like chicken breast and rise, and threw it in the microwave. After some dinner, I went upstairs to turn in for the night. I took one more look at myself in the mirror, admiring the beautifully sculpted muscles, said goodbye, and crashed in the bed.

When the sun came up, I’d like to say I was greeted by my room back in Rhode Island and I lay there, laughing about the adventures the previous day. But actually, that is not what happened. Not at all.

When I opened my eyes after a restful night’s sleep, I was not back in my room. I wasn’t even in my own body. I was still Logan. I cursed under my breath, getting up out of bed to take a closer look in the mirror.

“What the fuck? Why can’t I move?” a voice said. It sounded like… huh. I starred at myself in the mirror, wiping my hands down my chest.

I sighed. “Unbelievable. Just great. So much for returning to Rhode Island at midnight.”

“What the crap? Who is doing that? Who…who is saying that?” The voice returned, growing louder and more intense.

Okay, that was weird. It sounded like Logan’s voice, but I didn’t say that. “Uh—hello?” I asked, looking over to the doorway.

“This is Logan Stevens… who the fuck are you? And how are you controlling my body? Get the fuck out!” Logan said. The voice wasn’t coming from down the hall. It was coming from my head.

Things just got way more complicated.

Update posts:
Weekly Update: 6 March 2021

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